Last weekend I made the 500-mile trek to my parents’ house in Tucson, Arizona. Prior to leaving, my boyfriend mentioned that there was a big fire just north of there, so I searched it up to make sure it wouldn’t impact my travels.
When I was several hours away from their house, I could see some smoke off in the distance. It was way too far to the left of where the road was headed, so I thought that it was a different fire. As I continued on, the road meandering under the desert heat, I noticed that the landscape had changed and I was now approaching the smokey mountain.
Driving ever closer, I could see the large smoke plumes blowing the opposite direction from where I was headed. While there were no visible flames to be seen, puffs of smoke were erupting from the mountainside reminiscent of an active volcano. I snapped some pictures from behind the wheel as I drove past to show the family once I arrived. But as I continued on my journey, I got to thinking about the metaphor here.
It was a nice reminder that sometimes we think we know what direction our path is going and have an idea of where we’re headed, only to discover we had no idea how the road was actually winding up ahead. Noted, smokey mountain. Duly noted.